


Like & Subscribe

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: Gamer-Guru Playlist [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (But Not In A Sexy Way), (sorry), Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Beauty Guru Baz, Fashion Challenges, Filming, Gamer Simon, M/M, Pining, Sharing Clothes, YouTube, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: Snow shrugs, sat across the table from me, looking devastatingly perfect with his golden curls falling over his forehead and his blue eyes shining in the sun streaming in from behind me. I want to clock him, sometimes, because he’s so beautiful and it’s no wonder he’s got one of the fastest growing channels on YouTube right now. I subscribed solely to look at him.I can’t imagine I’m alone in that.“Baz?” Snow is waving his hand in front of my face and I realize I’d completely zoned out staring at him. Again. I’ve done that an embarrassing number of times since we started meeting, but I hope he takes me for one of those socially awkward YouTubers and not madly in love with him.In truth, I’m probably both. But I’m definitely madly in love with him. I just can’t say it, because for all I do know about Simon Snow thanks to his inability to stop running his mouth in front of a camera, I don’t know if he’s queer.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Gamer-Guru Playlist [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657102
Comments: 26
Kudos: 309





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisRix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/gifts).



> I finally caved and wrote a YouTube AU, and tbqh this whole fic wouldn't even exist without the blessing that is [ KrisRix ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix). Thank him for this. 
> 
> There were a couple art inspirations behind this, first and foremost being [this piece](https://krisrix.tumblr.com/post/610991412705656832/saw-this-mens-fashion-inspo-post-and-knew-i-had) by Kris which set this whole thing off and made me _need_ to write a 'verse where Baz has a fashion channel. 
> 
> And another of Baz's shirts in this piece was inspired by [ this art](https://thehoneyedhufflepuff.tumblr.com/post/189571716757/carry-on-countdown-day-15) by [ The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff). 
> 
> Kris's brilliant mind also gave Simon his channel name in this 'verse, _and_ he and [ annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/pseuds/annabellelux) shouted this perfect title at me on the discord because I'm awful with naming things. ~~(This is why I can't have kids.)~~
> 
> I also wanna give a really big _HEY THANKS_ to [sbazzing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbazzing/pseuds/sbazzing) & [The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff) for being my wondrous, enthusiastic betas. 
> 
> And now, without further ado, please enjoy the first installment in whatever this YouTube AU 'verse turns out to be.

**BAZ**

“I just  _ think _ … it could be a fun way to grow your channel, get more subs, you know.” 

Snow shrugs, sat across the table from me, looking devastatingly perfect with his golden curls falling over his forehead and his blue eyes shining in the sun streaming in from behind me. I want to clock him, sometimes, because he’s so beautiful and it’s no wonder he’s got one of the fastest growing channels on YouTube right now. I subscribed solely to look at him.I can’t imagine I’m alone in that. 

“Baz?” Snow is waving his hand in front of my face and I realize I’d completely zoned out staring at him. Again. I’ve done that an embarrassing number of times since we started meeting, but I hope he takes me for one of those socially awkward YouTubers and not madly in love with him. 

In truth, I’m probably both. But I’m definitely madly in love with him. I just can’t say it, because for all I  _ do  _ know about Simon Snow thanks to his inability to stop running his mouth in front of a camera, I  _ don’t  _ know if he’s queer. 

“What d’ya think?” he asks again, and I have to physically keep myself from shaking my daze away. I blink and refocus on him. 

“I don’t do challenges,” I say firmly. “I think they’re… hokey. They take nothing to make, and they’re solely stunts to build a followership.” 

“Well, yeah,” Snow huffs a laugh. “That’s what the whole platform’s for, Baz. Building a followership, entertaining subscribers.” 

“And I do that well enough without doing those pointless sorts of videos.” 

“Come  _ on _ , Baz,” Snow sighs, and I could drink in the way he says my name all day. He’s watching me, looking at me so fondly, and I have to drop my eyes down to my drink before I do or say something I’ll quickly regret. “Just one. Do  _ one _ challenge, for me. I’ll even help you! From - from conception, to filming, to editing.” 

And those were the magic words, right there.  _ For me _ . I think I would do anything for him, for that smile, and the way it wrinkles up his freckled cheeks. He’s smiling at me right now, he’s always smiling at me, at everyone. Sometimes I put his videos on mute and just watch him talking and  _ smiling _ . 

Because I’m disturbed. And I’m apparently completely infatuated with this curly-haired Adonis sat across from me. 

I heave a dramatic sigh, shaking my head and finally saying, “Alright.” 

“Seriously?” Snow’s grinning at me  _ wider _ , somehow, his eyes squinting with glee.  _ Squinting with glee _ , have you ever been able to actually describe somebody with that? No one is that goddamn happy, except Simon Snow  _ is _ . Right now, talking to  _ me _ , about working on a video  _ with _ me. I nod, and he shoots up in his seat, even thrusts his fist into the air a bit. “Brilliant! Oh, Baz, this’ll be brilliant, I swear.” 

I can’t help but laugh—he’s so astonishingly happy, it rubs right off. 

“Sure thing, Snow.” 

“You know you can call me Simon, yeah? I mean, that’s my name.” 

Simon  _ is _ his name, but he goes by ‘Snow’ on the internet. At least, he did when he initially started his channel, ‘ **_SnowMercy_ ** ’. He is called Simon more often now, Simon Snow, though his actual surname is still rarely mentioned save for ridiculous internet articles about content creators. 

“Is ‘Snow’ not? Where does it come from?” 

“Well, I mean…” Simon shifts in his seat, and I’m afraid I’ve made him uncomfortable in some manner. He’s still smiling, but does it have an edge of awkward energy now? Have I ruined this already? We’ve met up a total of three times since we first actually met each other in person, back at a London creators conference — have I ruined this within three meetings? “Snow’s my middle name, so, I s’pose that  _ is  _ also my name.” 

He laughs, and maybe the discomfort was in my head because his grin is suddenly back on me and I feel warm, as if I’m standing directly in a beam of sunlight. 

“We’re even then,” I say, lifting my cup up to drain the last of my coffee. “Baz is my middle name.” 

“That’s not your given name? What is it, then?” 

I chuckle, gripping my cup with both hands. “Can’t spoil all my mysteries up front, can I?” 

Snow pouts, and starts to question me about my name again, when his mobile goes off. It’s face up on the table between us, and I see Penelope Bunce’s face appear on the screen. Bunce is his best friend. She’s actually the one that introduced us at that conference. 

“Oh, sorry, one sec.” Snow scoops his mobile up. “Oi, Penny, what’s up?” 

I take the opportunity to watch him shamelessly. Well, a bit shamefully, but he’s distracted so I take comfort in the fact that he won’t notice. There’s something absolutely gorgeous about how completely  _ plain _ he is. Not to say he isn’t a very fit man, he is  _ very  _ fit, but he’s nothing extraordinary. He’s beautiful in a completely average way, from his curls that are obviously not that well kept, to his blue eyes that match nearly every social media app you’ve ever seen, to the freckles scattered across his face, and neck, and arms. 

He’s nothing special, yet you can’t help but notice him. His  _ energy _ is special, he’s absolutely captivating thanks to some unseen force that he just  _ radiates _ . That pull was strong enough when I was alone in my flat watching him play some inane game on his channel—it’s near unbearable sitting right next to him. I’m afraid of what would happen if this table weren’t between us, what I would do, what I would  _ want  _ to do. 

Snow hangs up and he looks a bit disappointed as he says, “Sorry, that was Penny. Forgot we’ve a thing planned for today, so I should actually head out.” 

“Bailing out with the best friend excuse?” I tease, and I’m not sure I do a good job of hiding the flirtation behind my words. His cheeks flush a light pink, though, and it’s lovely. 

“I’d never bail on you if I had the choice." His face is serious as he says this, eyes finding mine as if to push the point directly to my soul. I feel a shiver run down my spine. “I’ll text you, yeah? We can talk challenge ideas, set up a time to start working on the video.” 

I swallow thickly as I nod. I don’t quite trust myself to say anything. 

**SIMON**

I can’t believe I’ve done this. 

I mean, I can, I wanted to do this. I wanted to make a video with Baz, and I really did think the challenge idea would be fun. 

But now we’re  _ here _ , Penny and I just got to his flat and we’re  _ here _ . We’re  _ in _ his flat, about to start filming. He answered the door in socked feet and a pair of old trackies. I’d never seen him so dressed down. I didn’t know he  _ could  _ be so dressed down, but he apologized for it at any rate and told us he had just been editing. He invited us in, offered us drinks, and excused himself for a few moments. 

And now I’m sat here on Baz Pitch’s sofa, chugging a glass of water because for some reason my mouth feels so dry. 

“You’ll make yourself sick, Si, slow down,” Penny chides, pulling the glass from my lips. “Thirsty, are we?” 

I narrow my eyes at her, because I’m not sure if those words are loaded. I’ve never been the best at detecting subtext (a lot of things kind of fly over my head) but I know Penny thinks I have a thing for Baz. 

I don’t, for the record. Have a thing for Baz. At least, I don’t think I do. I think he’s very charming, and I enjoy watching his videos. They’re not exactly my speed (he mostly does makeup tutorials and fashion videos),but he’s got enough personality to pull anyone in. I’ve always thought that was really important. That’s what I look for most when deciding what videos to watch — personality. I’d even been caught up in this one channel that was fully centered on nail art, but the woman behind the channel was so entertaining to just listen to, it didn’t matter if I understood any of what she was saying. 

She went on to making a bunch of different sorts of videos, more fun things that you could tell she enjoyed making. I think Baz would benefit from that. Not that I don’t think he enjoys what he’s currently making, but I think he has the personality to have fun on his channel. I think people would like that. I don’t really think about numbers and subs and views that much, I have Penny for that, but I knew that’s what it would take to get Baz to agree to this. 

Not that I think he’s a hard numbers and views type of creator, but I think he cares more about the audience’s enjoyment than his own. I think he’d do really well letting the audience enjoy something  _ with _ him, or maybe that’s just what I want to see. I’m just in a lucky enough position to make it happen. 

“Alright, Snow.” Baz is back, and he’s changed. He’s still got his same socks on, a blue striped pattern, but he’s exchanged his trackies for some nice grey trousers and he’s changed into a blue shirt with a flower and hummingbird stitched over his left breast. He’s pulled half his hair back, a little bun tied up at his crown. “How do we go about this video of yours?” 

He’s stood in front of us with his arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his shirt have been pushed up his forearms, folded over at his elbows, and it is quite the attractive look. I mean, of course it is, anything’s an attractive look on Baz. That’s got to be part of his charm, he’s well fit. No one can deny that, not even me. But that doesn’t mean I have a thing for Baz, does it? 

“Uhm, well,” I clear my throat and reach for the folded paper in my jacket pocket. “I thought we could do—”

“Hold on!” Penny puts a hand up to stop me, then reaches into my camera bag. “Should probably reveal the plans on camera, right? Get Baz’s genuine first reaction.”

“O-oh, erm, right.” 

“I can film, so don’t worry about a tripod. Where do you typically record, Baz?” Penny’s pulled my camera out, already messing with the lens as she stands. “Figure we could do some sort of intro there? If you want, of course. This is your channel, after all.” 

“Yeah, of course. Follow me.” Baz waves his hand and turns toward a door to the side of the lounge. Penny’s grabbing my arm and pulling me up, dragging me along as we follow him further into his flat. 

Baz leads us to an office. It’s kind of small but maybe that’s due to all the lights and equipment set up in one corner. The other half of the room is home to Baz’s computer and desk, where I’m assuming he does a lot of his editing. I can just imagine him sitting there, hunched over in his chair in his trackies and socks and his hair in a bun as he works. 

Penny goes into full director mode fairly quickly (there’s a reason she helps me with my channel). I mean, I do need help with all the editing as well, but she’s a very good cameraperson and director as well. Not that most of my videos need any kind of directing, but she keeps me on track when I need it. 

We record for a bit, let Baz do his intro and introduce me to his audience. I can’t imagine we have a lot of overlap in our viewers. 

“So, Simon Snow, what have you planned for us today?” Baz turns to me, and I’m immediately in the recording mindset. I don’t think I put on an act for the camera necessarily, but there’s a bit more energy in my voice and movements when I’m recording. It just translates better, it’s more interesting to watch. 

“Baz Pitch, you are the most fashionable man on the internet right now,” I glance down at my own outfit, a worn pair of jeans and a  _ Mass Effect 2 _ shirt that’s started fading. “Not that I’m the leading authority on that, but I doubt many would disagree with me.” 

Baz’s cheeks look a little pinker. I wonder if the lights are getting to him. That happens to me sometimes, I get really hot with all the lights. I almost want to cut and make sure he’s alright, but maybe it’s best to just get through this bit. 

“ _ So _ , I thought it’d be fun to put your… skills to the test here, and try styling some pieces you wouldn’t typically wear out as a day look.” 

“Have you got anything in particular in mind, Snow?” Baz watches me and quirks a brow. I’ve seen him do that a few times in his videos. I always wonder how he does that. I can’t lift just one eyebrow, I’ve tried. 

I don’t let myself get distracted—we’re  _ filming _ , after all. “Yes!” Penny tosses a bag in my direction, without even moving the camera. She’s got a really steady hand. It’s impressive, nearly as impressive as Baz’s eyebrow thing. “Now, at first, I thought it would be fun to take you shopping, let you choose your own options — but  _ then,  _ I thought it’d be even more of a challenge if we brought you  _ these _ .” I pull a bundle of fabric from the bag, shaking out a pink, flowery top and some trousers to match. 

“Are these —?” Baz reaches out and grabs the sleeve of the top, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “Are these pyjamas?” 

“Yup,” I’m grinning, now, because Baz looks absolutely bewildered. “Today, Baz Pitch, fashion icon, is going to style some pyjamas into a day and a night look.” 

Baz’s one brow is still raised to near the middle of his forehead as he looks up at me. The corner of his mouth quirks up as he asks, “Snow, are these  _ your _ floral pyjamas?” 

I feel my own face heat at that, and I know it’s not the lights. “Uhm — yes. They were a gift, and we don’t need to discuss this further. Go make them fashion!” 

Baz starts laughing and Penny cuts off the camera, smiling herself. “Brilliant, boys.” 

“Are these honestly yours?” Baz asks again, his amusement obviously not for show as he takes the pyjamas from my hands. I’m blushing in earnest now, I can feel heat from the tips of my ears down to my neck. I can only hope it’s not noticeable, but I’m sure it is, so hopefully he’ll blame the lights. 

“My mum gave them to me, for Christmas,” I defend, but that doesn’t stop Baz from snickering a bit more. “You’ve not got room to talk, look at what you’re wearing! You’ve a hummingbird on your chest!” 

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with a man in floral, Snow.” Baz holds his arms out. “Obviously. I’m just picturing you in particular in these pyjamas.” 

“And that’s funny, is it?” 

Baz only nods as he falls into another fit of snickers, and I can’t even be mad. Embarrassed, sure, but I’ve never seen Baz laugh like this. I’m kind of glad to witness it, a genuine burst of laughter from the usually so stoic Baz Pitch. I feel like I’ve got tickets to a special behind-the-scenes experience. 

But then I knock him on the shoulder and push him away from the lights, back toward his lounge. “Come on, you can laugh at me while you actually turn these into a proper outfit.” 

**BAZ**

I’m actively trying not to react to the fact that Simon Snow brought me  _ his pyjamas  _ to style. To  _ wear _ . I’m going to be wearing Snow’s pyjamas. 

_ Christ _ . 

I’m trying to ignore the burning of my cheeks as I shuffle through the lounge and into my bedroom. Snow and Bunce follow, and I notice Snow hesitate in my doorway. Bunce has already made herself right at home, sinking down onto the edge of my bed and fiddling with her camera. 

“Are you okay with me filming?” she asks, and I give a little nod. This is new for me, having someone else film me. I usually do my videos alone, just me and my tripod. I wonder how much more footage this means I’ll have to sort through. How much will feel usable? How much longer will this take to edit? Is this why Snow works with Bunce, to help edit? Is that what she does, or does she just film for him? Should I start considering someone to help film and edit? Is my channel growing enough for that? 

I have to go through all of these things because I have to keep my mind away from the fact that  _ Simon Snow is sitting on my bed _ . And I’m digging through my closet, looking for something to style  _ his  _ clothes. And then  _ wear them _ . Well, I’m pushing my clothes around and pretending to be looking, but I’m far too distracted to actually focus on any one thing. 

“Talk us through your thoughts,” Snow pipes up, pulling me out of my thoughts and reminding me that he’s right there. In my room.  _ On my bed _ . 

I take a deep breath, pull out a hanger and drape the pyjamas over it. 

I take another breath, and push the doors to my closet open further. 

I don’t think I have an extraordinarily large closet, although Snow kept making comments to the contrary as I went through. At first I’m just pulling out a few options, trying to narrate my thought process as I go for the camera, but at some point Snow must find this incredibly boring because he’s suddenly by my side and grabbing at things. 

“What if we turned it into a competition?” He suggests, pulling a dark sheer top out and examining it for a moment. “Like, I come up with an outfit, too, and we see who does it best?” 

“And who would judge that?” 

He gestures to Bunce. “Them, obviously. Your audience. Or Penny, for more immediate results.” 

“What do you know about styling clothes, Snow?” I look over at him, lift a brow. He’s still studying the top he’d extracted a moment ago. Then he shrugs and gives me a small smile. 

“Nothing. Maybe that’ll be my advantage, though.” 

I scoff, mostly for show, as I see Bunce standing now and moving in on us. “Alright. Have we got a forfeit?” 

“Loser buys us dinner, obviously.” Snow’s grin is wider now, his tongue peeking out between his teeth. “Indian takeaway is my favorite, for the record.” 

My next laugh isn’t for show. It’s to cover the way his sure tone and cocky grin make my stomach flip. 

**SIMON**

I don’t know the first thing about clothes or fashion, but I do know that I found a very interesting clothing item in Baz’s closet and I want nothing more than to see him in it. I’m not sure it will make a cohesive outfit, exactly, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. 

The competition seems to get Baz more into it, as well. We’re both carding through his closet, standing hip to hip as Penny continues filming for some filler footage. Every so often our arms will brush, or we’ll reach for the same thing, and Baz shoots out a snide remark. Something playfully competitive. He’s quite witty. I was right about the personality thing, he’s got a lot of it and doesn’t give himself the chance to show it as much as he could. 

After about an hour of sorting and deciding, we both finally have our outfits prepared. I tell Baz to put his own on first, and he disappears into his bathroom to change. Penny takes the moment to put down the camera and sit next to me on the bed. I’m holding a bundle of Baz’s clothes in my lap, and I can’t help but notice how strongly they smell like him. Something woodsy and citrusy that I had picked up on before, when we’d met for coffee, but which is overwhelmingly heavy in his flat. Of course it is, of course his flat smells like him. His clothes smell even more like him, with something a tad lighter, flowery—his laundry soap, maybe. 

“What’s your play here, Simon?” Penny asks, and I furrow my brows as I look at her. My play? I haven’t got a play. 

“What’d’ya mean?” 

“Now this is a competition? Loser buys dinner?” 

I shrug. “Thought it’d be a little more fun, yeah? Was I wrong?” 

“No, I suppose not. Certainly awakened some competitive fiend in Baz, it seems.” 

The competitive fiend himself steps back into the room a moment later, and I think my jaw literally drops. Baz is a very fashionable bloke, and I’ve watched enough of his videos to know that he somehow manages to look like a male model in absolutely anything. None of that prepared me for seeing it in person. The outfit he’d changed into when we arrived was nice, but seeing him after putting in his best efforts is near breathtaking. Maybe it is breathtaking. Have I taken a breath? Has he taken it away? 

He’s got a smirk on his lips, and I realize it’s directed at me. He’s looking directly at me, and my gaping mouth, and my flushed cheeks. And I can’t tear my eyes away from him. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Baz, this is brilliant,” Penny breathes. “Go back in, let me get a shot of you coming into the room.” 

Baz does turn back into the bathroom, and I take the opportunity to shake the daze out of my head. I knew Baz was fit, I knew he frequently looked like he belonged on a runway. 

But,  _ Christ _ , I don’t think I ever realized that Baz is just…  _ beautiful _ . It feels odd, calling a bloke beautiful, but it fits. He’s not just fit, he’s absolutely astonishing. When he walks back in, I let myself take in every part of his look. He’s pushed his hair off to one side, revealing what’s likely to be the world’s most attractive neck. Who even knew that was a thing? And he’s got the pink, floral pyjamas on.  _ My  _ pyjamas. And for some reason, seeing him wearing my clothes leaves a heavy, warm feeling in my stomach. I don’t even wear those pyjamas that often, but they were a gift from my mum, and they’re quite warm and cosy in the colder months. 

The most amazing thing is that they don’t  _ look _ like pyjamas anymore, which is the entire point, of course, but I’m still impressed. He’s pulled them together with a black belt, and he’s done it so well it looks like one continuous piece. Then on top of that, he’s got on a yellow blazer. The shoulders are sort of squared off, and it falls loose around his frame, but not so loose that it looks too big. It just looks right. It looks  _ good _ . 

Penny and Baz spend some time taking various shots of the look, moving about various places in his flat and out on the street for footage of Baz looking like he stepped out of a goddamn men’s fashion magazine. 

“Alright, Snow, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

“Uhm, right.” I swallow. Why is my mouth so dry again? Am I dehydrated? Maybe Penny’s right, I don’t drink enough water. But when I drink a lot of water, I’m constantly running to take a piss, and that just gets annoying. Especially when I’m in the middle of a game. 

I stand and shove the bundle of clothes into Baz’s arms, and he just looks at me with that damned brow of his quirked up again. 

“Any directions here?” 

“Wh-what?” 

“How do you want me to wear these? That’s part of it, Snow, you can’t just hand me the clothes and make  _ me  _ style them.” 

I blink, watch him for a minute. “Are you telling me to dress you?” 

I wonder if I’m imagining the pink tinge to his cheeks, or the flustered look that takes over his face for a split second. He clears his throat. “This was your idea.” 

“R-right.” I bob my head, not sure what I’m agreeing to. I guess I hadn’t thought I’d have to… I mean, I suppose that makes sense, considering I’ve got two tops for him. He’d just be confused if I handed them to him and told him to have at it. “Take these off, then. The blazer and pyjama top.” 

He does, sliding the blazer down his arms and folding it over the back of a chair. The shirt is next, and I think that’s when it clicks. 

I don’t think Penny was wrong.

I think I might have a thing for Baz. Particularly for his chest, and his shoulders. His skin is smooth, a slightly lighter shade here than his face or arms. I almost reach out and touch him, run a hand down his chest and stomach —  _ God, does he have abs? What the fuck? People really have abs?  _ — but stop myself just in time. Instead, I pass him the black top I had pulled out initially. 

I just wanted to see him in this, if I’m being honest. That’s why I suggested the competition and everything, I just thought it was interesting but… Well, I’m suddenly realizing there may have been more subconscious desires there. 

Baz pulls the sheer fabric over his head, and then his chest is still just  _ there _ , now cloaked with this see-through material with glitter scattered throughout. I’m hyper-aware of everything as I step closer to him, instruct him to tuck that shirt into his trousers and then put the pyjama shirt back on. 

He does as I ask, and the air between us feels thick with  _ something _ . I can’t look him in the eye. I can’t look away from his chest, actually. At the way the fabric pulls over his shoulders, stretches across his torso, and how his toned muscles look beneath the mesh and glitter. My fingers brush against his skin, over the fabric, as I tug at the bit he’d just tucked in, pulling it back out just a bit. 

I think I’d like to tug the whole thing back over his head. 

I have to finish up quickly—something about being so close to him is doing things to my head. I tie the ends of the pyjama shirt up, give him a sort of cropped look on top, and then take a step back. 

“Ta-da,” I say, hoping the crack in my voice was not noticeable. The look on Baz’s face tells me it is, but I think his face is even pinker now than it was earlier. I wonder if all of that left him feeling the same way I am? Like I’ve got a mob of moths trapped in my gut, like I’ve swallowed a rock and I can feel the weight of it in my stomach. 

I wonder if Baz is into blokes. 

I wonder if  _ I’m  _ into blokes, actually. I didn’t think I was, but does this mean that I am? 

Shit, maybe that’s something to think about later. Or never think about again. 

**BAZ**

I was shirtless in front of Simon Snow. 

And Simon Snow kept  _ looking  _ at me shirtless, his face turning a lovely shade of scarlet when he pulled at my shirt and his hand brushed against my belly. I almost let out an embarrassing sound at that moment. Even just a brush felt so good, and I wanted him to touch me again. 

I want him to touch me again. I want to touch  _ him _ . 

But I’m still not sure if he even likes blokes. I could have completely misread that situation. Maybe he was actually just incredibly uncomfortable, and  _ that’s  _ what that look on his face was. 

I’m not convinced, honestly, but the fear still sticks in the back of my head. 

We move past it quickly enough, as Bunce and I busy ourselves laughing at Simon’s attempt at styling me. It was an attempt, at least, but the execution was  _ not _ there. I think the black top is good. (Obviously, I own it.) But it doesn’t deserve to be drowned out by the floral pattern of the pyjamas. They each deserve their own moments, which is exactly what  _ I  _ did with my look, and why I won the impromptu competition. 

Snow buys us all Indian takeaway, he’s a man of his word. We put our collective equipment away as we wait for the food to be delivered, and the entire time Snow can’t stop going on about how excited he is for the samosas. 

“There’s just nothing better than a potato-filled pastry, you know.” He’s haphazardly folding up a tripod as he talks, and I’m almost worried he’s going to knock himself in the face. “Curry’s great, but  _ samosas _ , Baz. When you’ve got a good samosa, you don’t need anything else.” 

I can’t believe how adorable I find him as he rambles on and on about food. He even half-seriously suggests filming a  _ mukbang _ together, but Bunce and I both put a firm foot down on that one. I will absolutely not stoop down to just filming myself  _ eating and talking _ . 

We eat together in my lounge, talking and laughing and scrolling through YouTube videos. I don’t watch many gaming channels apart from Snow, but he picks out a few of his favorites to watch, and I throw in a few of my favorite beauty gurus. It’s kind of like looking into someone’s head, seeing their YouTube Home page. It sounds ridiculous, and I promise I’m not one of those creators that eat, sleep, and breathe the platform — but there’s so much content out there, it’s interesting to see what specific people choose to spend their time watching. 

Bunce started out sitting between us, buffering our choices with a strong veto if something seemed just too niche to a specific person or got too boring, too fast. It was infrequent, but apparently she has very particular tastes. According to Snow. 

At some point she gets up to use the loo, and when she returns she plants herself on Snow’s other side. My sofa isn’t very big, which means that Snow and I were nearly thigh-to-thigh. Until he shifts, and then we’re pressed firmly together, and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I can feel the heat radiating from his leg, and his arm just barely brushing mine. 

They leave not long after that, thank god. One more moment with Snow’s body pressing against me and I surely would’ve been set alight. 

“I’ll work on transferring all the footage tonight,” he says, standing in my doorway. Bunce had already started making her way down the stairs. “And, uh, then I can text you later? Maybe we could meet up, I could help you edit? If you’d like? Just ‘cause.. uhm, it’s a lot, you know?” 

“Sure.” I try not to let my smile say too much. Keep it small and friendly, and not absolutely fawning over the blush over his cheeks or the way he scratches the back of his neck. “Text me later, Snow.”

“Yeah,” he gives me a wide, goofy, kinda crooked grin at that. I’m leaning against my door, so I do  _ not  _ swoon. (Physically. I have been swooning in my head all night, all  _ week _ . Basically since I met him, if not  _ before  _ that.) “Uhm, g’night then. Thanks for doing this, Baz. It was fun.” 

I nod again, and he hesitates for a moment before leaning in and swinging an arm round my neck. It’s fast, too fast for me to really process until he’s disappeared around the corner and I can hear his trainers clopping down the stairs. The woodsy, smokey scent of him still lingers in all my senses, the tops of my shoulders and neck still tingling from where his arm had been. My chest still warm from where he’d pressed into me. 

I have to hold onto my door as I shut it to assure I remain balanced as I try to shake it off, but all I want is to go back and live in that split second forever. In his warmth, in his scent. 

In his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna talk snowbaz or anything carry on, find me on tumblr: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com)
> 
> (I'm also currently doing a fic giveaway for my followers over there, if that interests you.)


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